I Predict A Riot
by Nolle Prosequi
Summary: He heard the sound of her bathroom door shutting and just like that Bobby was left standing in Eames’ hallway, perplexed – and not in a good way. A rewrite of 'Exacerbation.' CH 2.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER**: Not mine, even if I am reclaiming them for a second go-around with this same premise!

Okay, so 'Exacerbation' was my first attempt at LOCI fanfiction. Over time, I really started to dislike the story. So much so that eventually I let it fade into oblivion. But, after a recent plotbunny attacked me, I'm finding that I really do want to come back to this story. Here's my second crack at it - the first chapter of 'Exacerbation' rewritten under the guise of 'I Predict A Riot.' Once I get all caught up, I'll post on 'Exacerbation' and let everyone know they should come over here to read a better story! Just like before, I only have a tentative idea of where this is going - BA-ship ahoy! - so we'll all just have to be surprised about where the story goes!

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The upside of solving a case was knowing that you've helped to clear a little bit more scum off of the New York streets. The downside of solving a case was the paperwork that piled up over the course of so much footwork. Bobby Goren, restless as he was in both body and mind, reveled in the footwork – in the delicate dance of catching his prey – it was the paperwork that tripped him up. Since the close of their most recent case only hours ago, his partner had been the one steadily working her way through the paperwork.

He had hit a wall. The rush of adrenaline that came with the interrogation of suspects was always fleeting after a confession had been obtained. He was only on his third form, but he took every opportunity, used every excuse, to get up and move around. It was a restless energy that had been ingrained in his bones that kept him moving despite his growing exhaustion. She would glance up at him every once in a while, grab another form, and then continue to work with the ease of someone whose life purpose was to fill out paperwork.

Finally, their Captain came around and showed them some mercy. He dismissed them, tentatively giving them the weekend off. If the world wasn't ending, they were probably not going to get a call – he understood how much the previous case had taken out of both of them. Met with the expected opposition, his tone took a more 'authoritative' tone. When neither one could muster the energy to disagree with him a second time, they grumbled and huffed and packed up their stuff to head to their respective homes.

--

It was close to midnight when his cell phone rang in the silence of his apartment. The television had been muted some time ago and now it only served to light the shadows of his apartment with the glow of the late-night news. He had half a beer sitting on the coffee table in front of him and he was still half-dressed in his work clothing, only now it was disheveled and unkempt.

Instantly, his mind jumped to attention – it was work on the other end of that line. They'd caught some high-profile, puzzling, all-too-important case that only the two of them could solve. Something had happened that required their immediate attention. After all, it wouldn't be the first time his 'tentative weekend off' was rainchecked for some case deemed more important than himself and his plans. However, he couldn't help but listen to that nagging voice in the back of his mind. That voice that told him this wasn't work at all – this was her. She was calling him, she needed him for something. And that put a lazy smile on his face all too easily.

She was the only one who would brazenly call him at this time of night without any second thoughts. He wasn't sleeping and she knew it like she knew her name. Lying on his back on the couch he didn't move much, it was his hand that finally shot out on the third ring to answer the offending machine.

"Eames?" He grimaced at how tired he sounded to his own ears, surely she would pick up on it as well.

"Goren! Glad I caught you!" She seemed frazzled over the phone, her previous exhaustion replaced with an almost nervous energy. She also sounded genuinely surprised to hear his voice, as if she'd really expected that he would not pick up the phone for her. "Listen, I'm really sorry."

"Sorry?" He parroted her words back to her, dumbfounded for the briefest of seconds. Unable to control his overactive imagination, his mind immediately shot off in a million different directions – each scenario involving the word 'sorry' becoming increasingly more horrible than the last he thought up. "For what?"

He had been lying down on the couch, watching the shadows change in unison with the television pictures changing, but when she called, he'd had to adjust. A previously prone Bobby was now sitting up; he'd swung his feet so that they were resting on cool hardwood – a much-needed touchstone now that his mind was off and running with all sorts of flights of fancy.

"I, uh… I –" It was obvious that she was distracted. Her failed attempt to multitask left Bobby's question unanswered as she set her mind to something else.

"Eames?" He prompted and, just as before, he was unable to keep his voice controlled. This time a note of panic snuck into his tone. He was floundering within his mind and he needed answers fast before he drowned in them.

"I used two of your vacation days!" She finally blurted out, only vaguely aware of how thick the silence on the other end of the line had become in the wake of her muteness. A long pause followed her confession and she seemed content to let him mull it over, opting to return her attention to whatever had occupied her from before.

"What?" He finally managed to force a word over the lump that had formed in his throat. Whatever invented hells his mind had dragged him through in the last few moments, he never would have fathomed that that was what she was going to be sorry about. "Why?"

"I needed the weekend off." In his mind's eye he could clearly see her shrugging her shoulders as if the admission was just that simple. "I mean completely off – no high-profile cases, no puzzlers that only the dynamic duo can solve, no 'more-important-than-our-days-off' cases. You know how much I _love_ those." He imagined the face she was making at that very moment and couldn't fight the smile that broke loose on his own face. "I'll probably even turn off my phone as soon as I get done with this phone call."

She paused, distracted again, and it was during this silent interlude that Bobby caught the familiar hum of an engine in the background. She was driving somewhere? Where was she going? Why was she going? What was so important that she absolutely needed to guarantee a few days off? A million questions sprang forth in Bobby's mind and he reeled them in with enough time to realize that he'd completely zoned out on Eames.

"…and Ross wasn't comfortable with giving me the time off unless you took off too. He kept saying something about you being a nuisance on your own." She let out a distracted chuckle that was supposed to assuage the passive-aggressive insult from their Captain. "So, I lied and said I'd cleared everything with you first." She continued to explain the conversation in more detail but Bobby had already shut her out, struggling to connect the dots of what exactly was going on. "But, like I said, I didn't think you'd mind and –"

"I don't." He cut her off with a quick assurance as he turned his full attention back to her and their conversation once more.

"I figured if I was taking the time off, you'd want it too. I doubt you'd get any of the paperwork done anyways." He could hear the teasing smile in her voice and he could see her face perfectly etched into his mind. "You could use a weekend. Catch up on your reading. Or your sleep. Or… you could… you know, just relax." Her voice had taken an apologetic tone as she listed off ways for him to spend his new-found free-time. She did not claim to be a mind reader, but she felt that she knew Bobby Goren well enough to know that he'd be almost lost without someone giving him something productive to do with his time. Otherwise, he might end up drinking away his weekend in the dark of his apartment and she certainly didn't want that.

"Y-Yeah, I've… got plenty of things to do. Don't worry about it." His mind continued to process the newly acquired information and another thick hush fell over the conversation. "Why do you need the time off anyways?" He asked, trying to fill in those last few holes in her story.

"I told you," She sounded annoyed and slightly hurt that he had not been listening when she rattled off her first monologue of information. "Family emergency. But don't worry; I'll be back for work on Monday. I wouldn't dare to leave you with all that exciting paperwork all by your lonesome – you're liable to doodle on all the important forms." He should have been offended by the comment, but instead he just chuckled. Not only was she probably right, but he couldn't ever deny that her snark was charming after all these years. But her snark just wasn't up to snuff in its usual biting fashion; something else was on her mind. And Bobby wanted to know exactly what it was.

"What happened?" His mind flooded with the same worst-case scenarios from before.

"Nothing important." This was not the answer that Bobby was expecting, as 'nothing important' directly undermined the whole point of an 'emergency.' Her contradictory answer, coupled with her almost flippant tone, only served to raise more questions in his mind, but he just couldn't bring himself to question her any more on the topic. She'd tell him if it was something important, wouldn't she? Surely she trusted him enough to let him in on those types of things, right?

"Where are you going?" Okay, maybe he could bring himself to press her for a bit more information. The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself from prying further into a private matter. There was that same pause that had suddenly come to frequent their conversations before she let out an amused chuckle. She should have known that he wouldn't be satisfied with such vague answers.

"Out of town." She answered a little too quickly for his liking.

"To… to your parents?" He was fishing for answers, but she was on to his game and made sure to keep all of her information locked away in her mind – strictly on a need-to-know basis. She had said 'family emergency.' Where else could she be going but her parents? Last they discussed Nathan he was as healthy as any growing boy could get, so it couldn't have been him.

"No, out of town." She repeated, punctuating her words carefully this time. Her manner was just as warm and open as it had been when she'd sat across from him at work just hours before, but now she was taking measured steps to keep any hints of answers from her tone. "Listen, I have to go Goren. Thanks for understanding."

"It's not a big deal, Eames, really." She'd caught him off guard with how abruptly she'd put a stop to the conversation that he'd had little choice but to allow her to steer their question and answer session to a close. He sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck with his free hand as he answered her, unable to hide his frustration at being kept in the dark. He didn't like her answers, but he trusted her enough not to ask anything more of her. If it was something that he'd needed to trouble himself over, or help her with, he was confident that she would have clued him in.

"And Bobby?" Her concerned voice broke through his thoughts with as much ease as wind through the trees.

"Yeah Eames?"

"Why don't you try sleeping in a bed tonight?"

He couldn't help the warm feeling that spread from the pit of his stomach outwards as he smiled that embarrassed, little boy grin of his – she knew him all too well. Before he could respond, there was a click followed by a silence that signaled the end of the call. Pulling the phone away from his ear, the end-call screen flashed briefly before disappearing to reveal his normal background.

And so the countdown for answers began.

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What do you think? Is the rewrite better than the original? Are you running to 'Exacerbation' just to see what happens next?  
Leave your feedback here so I know what everyone's feeling about this new version! Motivate me to keep writing!


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER**: Still not mine, but I'll trade you the Brooklyn Bridge for them?

So, you peekers (and previous readers) know what's coming! And if you didn't peek, good for you - here's a nice surprise! No beta, mistakes are all on me. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome, as well as any suggests for where you think this story should go - I've only got that last chapter of Exacerbation and then we're back to using just my little ole' brain again. And do we really want that?

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It didn't take long for Bobby to realize just how miserable his weekend was going to be. Sometime during the early morning hours of Saturday, he'd heeded Eames' advice and dragged himself off to bed. After tossing and turning for some time, Bobby decided that not only was his couch was definitely more comfortable, but sleep was an elusive being. He wasn't an insomniac, he'd done extensive reading on the subject long ago and since discredited that possibility himself, he just couldn't get his brain to shut down.

When there was the possibility of a case looming just around the corner, Bobby could usually force himself into a light slumber for at least a couple hours – enough time to recoup some energy necessary to continue functioning. With that prospect firmly off the table, Bobby couldn't find the internal motivation to shut his eyes and slow his mind. He spent the night constantly in motion – changing position from lying on his stomach, to lying on his back, to lying on either side – going so far as to completely change position so that his feet were resting on the headboard and his head was on the end of the bed. He passed the time rattling off reasons why he hated vacation days.

The first lights of dawn gave Bobby the much-needed excuse to finally get out of bed – even when she wasn't around, he couldn't help but take her suggestion whole-heartedly and comply to the best of his abilities. He'd tried sleeping in the bed through the night like she'd suggested. Tried and failed, but tried nonetheless. Soon he found himself back on the couch, sprawled out more comfortably than he'd been all night. Turning on the television, he flipped through all of the news channels. It didn't take him long to lose interest in the information being displayed through the screen and the television became more background noise than anything else.

Around ten, Bobby found himself with a beer in his hand. Without the chance of being called out to a case, he drank without apprehension. During his second beer, he caught himself dialing Eames' cell phone number and had to consciously force himself to stop dialing. He reluctantly hit the 'end' button and firmly reminded himself that she had told him she was turning her phone off – it would go straight to voicemail. And for that matter, what had he been planning on saying? His booze-fogged mind lulled him into a booze-fueled slumber, taking his mind to places it didn't belong. Even his dreams seemed to be taxing him this weekend, flooding his brain with unwanted (but not entirely unpleasant) scenes. He woke up hours later, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. Blinking to clear his mind, he found himself precariously positioned on the couch, with a bad taste in his mouth, a coffee table littered with empty beer bottles and her name on the tip of his tongue. He felt no more rested.

By the time Sunday came, Bobby was mentally counting down the hours, minutes, seconds until Monday morning came. It never occurred to him how dependant he'd become over the years. Even during Eames' surrogacy, she'd never completely alienated him from the different aspects of her life. Thinking back to the earliest days of their partnership, he wasn't even sure that she'd been so estranged then. Eames seemed to have always been an open book to Bobby – he knew about the different aspects of her life, even the trivial things that she happened to share from time to time he filed away just in case. It'd always been him who was the mysterious one and over the years, she'd forced him to change that. No, she hadn't even really forced him. Gradually, Bobby began to accept her into his life as a constant and now that she was waffling, he was floundering. Recalling their last conversation, Bobby could find no clues, no indication of what she might be doing – or where.

Sunday afternoon Bobby had reached his wit's end and finally caved to the thoughts his brain had been pelting him with all day. He drove by her house. To his dismay, he found that she still was not home from wherever she had gone. Ignoring his thoughts of staking out her house, Bobby forced himself to respect her privacy and grudgingly drove home. When he got home, he paced his apartment like a caged animal for a few hours before settling down and turning the television on. Finding himself in the same position he had been in just yesterday morning, Bobby turned his phone in his hands and contemplated one last time about calling his partner. In the end, he managed to talk himself into a semi-sense of security with the reminder that if she'd needed him, she would have told him all about it. And tomorrow morning at work, she would definitely clue him in – he was sure of it.

A late dinner consisted of two beers, three cigarettes and deep, meaningful contemplation about his sudden loss of control over his own life. Although, if he was being honest with himself, he would have seen that there really was nothing sudden about it – it had taken years and years to get to the point, it had just been a slow ride. He couldn't help but wonder, did he really need Eames this much? So much that he was lost when she wasn't around? So much that he didn't know what to do with himself otherwise? Did he need her direction? These questions were intimidating and troubling, but not as troubling as the only answers he could think to provide. _No, he didn't need Eames this much. He needed _Alex_ this much._

Bobby fell into another uneasy sleep in a string of uneasy sleeps as of late just past two in the morning Sunday night. He promised himself that he would stop by and see Eames before work tomorrow. He wanted to touch base with her and quell his own insecurities about their time apart – and he wanted to get to the bottom of her reasons for leaving so suddenly and efficiently. His excuse would be simple, he'd bring her coffee; it would serve as a 'welcome back' as well as a 'sorry' for barging in on her morning routine. And maybe, just maybe, he'd have the courage to ask about her 'family emergency.'

Monday morning had Bobby's internal alarm clock going off much earlier than necessary in anticipation of seeing Eames. With that motivation laid out before him, it didn't take him long to get dressed and head out the door – surprisingly, still looking as impeccable as ever. He left his apartment early, picking up coffee and making sure to fix Eames' to her liking, and headed in the direction of her house. Arriving sooner than he'd planned, Bobby was relieved to see her car in the driveway. At least he now knew she had made it home safely last night and that she was coming into work today, just liked she'd promised. For a single, shameful second, he'd doubted her word about making it back in time for Monday morning work.

A quick check of his car clock showed Bobby that he was undeniably earlier than he'd anticipated being, he doubted Eames would be ready for work at this time. Finding that he couldn't busy himself in his car for longer than a few moments, he decided that it would be best to go knock on her door. Making the strategic decision to leave the coffee in his car until their departure, Bobby was suddenly struck with anxiety as he reached her porch. She'd been purposefully vague on the phone Friday night, she hadn't wanted him to know any of the details – maybe she wouldn't appreciate his unannounced morning visit. Maybe she'd see right through his cheap coffee-bringing façade and be angry at his snooping into her life. If she'd wanted him to know, she would have told him. She had been the one to cut contact over the weekend; it had not been his choice. The thoughts that once chased away his fears now brought so many flooding back to him.

His insecurities almost succeeded in talking himself out of his current actions, but by the time he stopped thinking and started paying attention to what he was actually doing, it was too late. He'd already knocked on her door just seconds before – it was too late to back out now. Trying not to seem overly eager, Bobby turned his back to the door and listened as the tumblers and locks receded behind the wood. When he heard the familiar squeak of her door swinging open, he was intent on playing it smooth. Rather than turn around to greet her, he studied the sky with great interest, giving her the chance to say the first words.

When a long silence persisted, he caved. Bobby made a move to turn around and greet his, probably angry, partner when –

"Can I help you, man?" A young male's voice, sleep-laced and slightly perturbed, greeted Bobby instead.

Whirling around fast enough to get whiplash, a panic-stricken Bobby could only stare at the scene laid out in front of him. The young man was tall and gangly, he couldn't have been over twenty, and he seemed almost vaguely familiar. And he was answering Eames' door – in his boxers no less. The boy had just that touch of civility that allowed him to answer the door with his hair disheveled and unkempt, wearing Batman boxer shorts and standing with a posture that seemed to read like he owned the place.

A usually rational-minded Bobby forwent rational thought for instincts and he immediately charged the figure, assuming the worst. The two knocked over a coat rack as they locked arms through the doorway, Bobby forcing the young man back into the house as they battled for the upper hand. For the time being, they seemed evenly matched – until Bobby gave a hard shove and the young man stumbled backwards. The back of his knees connected with a coffee table and his elbow knocked over a lamp, smashing it to bits. He held Bobby's upper arms and shoulders through this ordeal and once he had his balance back, he was able to shove Bobby with almost equal force. Bobby found himself propelled into the back of the couch, moving it a solid foot off of its original marks. He didn't let go of the assumed intruder and they both almost tumbled over the back of the couch.

The scuffled continued, with many loud bangs, in a stalemate – no clear winner, no one could gain (or keep) the upper hand for long. The young man nearly lost his footing (and did lose his balance) on a rug in the hallway and Bobby seized his opportunity. With a hard shove, the intruder found himself pinned to the wall. His head knocked down a picture when it slammed into the frame, shattering glass and adding to the mess in Eames' living room. Almost immediately, Bobby had his forearm covering the younger man's throat and shoulders. He was pinned in a position so that his toes were barely touching the ground, giving the intruder little leverage to fight back. Bobby was searching for his handcuffs with his other hand, breathing heavy with the adrenaline coursing through his system.

"What the _hell_ – "

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" A familiar voice took the words right out of Bobby's mouth.

"Eames," He was out of breath and her name came out as more of a pant than an actual word. Glancing towards her, he'd meant to explain the situation – but once he caught sight of her, all coherent thought died in his throat.

A puddle of water was beginning to form on Eames' floor, but it wasn't so much the water that caught his attention as it was the source of the water. Alex was standing in her hallway where the fight had ultimately ended, half of her face plastered with soapy blonde hair. She stood with great intimidation, despite the fact that she was wearing little more than a green towel. Her left hand held the towel in place, while her right had held her service weapon – pointed squarely at Bobby's head. She actually looked quite comical and, had Bobby been able to make any sounds come through the lump in his throat, he might have laughed.

Her stance was laughable; her feet were set too far apart. She could have easily slipped in the water forming around her feet. Aiming would be impossible using only one hand to steady the gun. There was hair in her face obstructing her view. And the kick-back alone would send her reeling, giving anyone a potential look at just about _everything_ Eames had to offer. There was almost no chance of being harmed in this situation and, had he found his voice just then, he might have informed her of all of this information. Instead, he was much more interested in tracing the lines of water falling from her hair down her face, down to the edge of the towel where they disappeared into it before he followed new paths down her upper thighs to her toes with just as much interest.

He was acutely aware of how she visibly relaxed when she finally realized that this was him – this was her partner, not some home invader. She hadn't expected to shoot anyone at this moment in time anyways, she knew she was in no position (stance, dress, or otherwise) to do so. She'd come out of the bathroom with the intent of scaring whoever had broken in away and nothing more. As she set her gun down on a nearby end table, she surveyed the damage laid out before her. There was broken ceramic, broken glass, everything must have been moved at least a few inches from where it normally was, some of the pictures on her wall where crooked. It looked like a tornado had blasted through her home.

Barely registering that the gun was gone and Eames' attention was elsewhere, Bobby continued to enjoy the view without consciously realizing he was doing so. The threat of getting shot was the furthest thing from his mind when he partner was standing so close wearing so little. She must have jumped out of the shower when she'd heard the commotion and had nothing else to throw on but the towel that left so little to the imagination – and oh what an imagination Bobby had. He didn't even stop to think about who she was out to defend herself against. Him or this intruder? This young punk who –

"Bobby! Let him go!" Her concerned voice pierced through his thoughts and shook him from his revelry. He turned to look at the younger man, the _intruder_; he was turning blue before Bobby's eyes. But before he could let go, the young man wretched himself from Bobby's grasp and dropped to the floor – landing heavily on his knees and curling into a half-hearted fetal position as he tried to catch his breath. Taking a step back, Bobby seemed shocked at his own actions.

"Are you okay?" Eames shocked Bobby further by directing her question to the younger man, rather than to him – granted, he did look like he was in a much better state than the young man. She even took a few quick strides across the room and ended up standing next to Bobby as she looked down at the young man with a face full of concern. Bobby was struck with a sudden feeling of envy for the boy, when was the last time Eames looked at him with such concern? And was that love he saw behind her eyes? He hoped it was just shampoo. The young man coughed and attempted to take a few deep breaths as he sat himself up. Eames made a move to bend down and inspect him, but he held up a hand and stopped her.

"I'm fine." His voice was a little shaky, but the disdain in it was easily detected by anyone with ears. He gingerly touched the back of his head and held his hand up in front of his face – bright red spots of blood were visible on his fingers. Pulling himself up off the ground with his own strength, the young man was able to stand and head towards the kitchen on unsteady legs.

Before Bobby had a chance to say anything to either person, the young man was headed towards the kitchen and Eames was turning back down the hallway, headed back to the bathroom. He looked from one to the other, his mind unable to add everything up with its usual ease. As if it was an afterthought, Eames stuck her head out of the bathroom door and yelled to both men.

"Goren, Sam. Sam, Goren. Try not to kill each other before I get out of the shower?"

He heard the sound of her bathroom door shutting and just like that Bobby was left standing in Eames' hallway, perplexed – and not in a good way.

* * *

Who the hell IS this guy?! Do you love him? Hate him? Are you ready for more of him? Have you peeked at Exacerbation yet? Stay tuned for more!


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